Heiligabend
by sithmarauder
Summary: T4: "Gott, you didn't let China sell you something again, did you?"  'Valentinstag.'   Prussia/Austria.  Winter themes with the Germans.
1. T1: Decorating

**Title: ****Heiligabend****  
Author: sithmarauder  
Pairing(s): (in this chapter) Prussia/Austria****  
Disclaimer: Hetalia and all affiliated characters do not, and will never, belong to me.**

Because I don't write enough humour. Rating may go up as this thing progresses.  
Ah, an on-going story written entirely in present tense. Challenge! The story summary will be changing with each theme.  
Thanks to Ailynm for the German translations, and sorry that this is so late. I'm likely going to continue this as one story. I want to write a New Years party scene. Public molestation, anyone?  
I realize I am ass at updating, but this really has no plot, so I won't be pressured to think up anything complicated. Maybe it will later, but by that time I'm likely to be so into it that, well, I'll update. Hooray, yes?

If anyone wants to suggest a theme, then I'm open to all ideas.

-x-

Forlorn. That's the expression on Austria's face as he stares, stunned, at the mess that was once his kitchen. Or at least what he liked to pretend was his – really, it was Germany's, but he had been given free reign of it, even as he was warned to keep Prussia out.

Beside him, the nation in question whistles innocently, his hands in his pockets as he leans against the counter with fake nonchalance, covered from his head to his waist in a powdery white substance that makes the remaining blue of his uniform stand out. It doesn't help that the rest of the kitchen is covered in the same white flour, either.

Austria turns on Prussia, his arms crossed sternly over his chest as he struggles to keep himself calm.

He fails.

"This is all your fault, you imbecile!" the angered Austrian nation shouts, gesturing to the kitchen – a kitchen that bears remarkable resemblance to the snow-covered grounds outside.

Prussia has the basic decency to look sheepish as he shrugs his shoulders.

"Accidents happen, little master; calm down."

"I will not calm down! What in God's name were you doing?"

"Cooking, Specs, duh. It's kind of what one does in a kitchen."

Prussia's goading him. With a devil-may-care smirk on his face, the ex-nation is goading him.

Austria takes the bait knowingly.

"Cooking involves making food, Prussia! Not a mess!"

"Can't have one without the other. Your kitchen just couldn't take my awesome."

Austria flings a handful of flour into Prussia's face, watching with an irate expression as Prussia sneezes, some of the flour falling off his uniform and sprinkling the ground.

"It's Germany's kitchen, you idiot! He's going to be livid when he sees this!"

Prussia scratches the back of his head, sneezing again. But he has that look in his eye – that look that makes Austria back against the counter as Prussia moves forward, almost catlike in his intensity.

"Y'know, Specs, that wasn't very nice," Prussia purrs as he leans over Austria, forcing the violet-eyed nation to bend backwards over the counter as Prussia's breath tickles his ear. "You should apologize."

"Did you even hear what I said? Your brother is..."

Austria's eyes narrow as he stretches his hand out for some more flour, but Prussia sees what he's doing and pins both his wrists down, looking amused that the nation below him had even tried to move.

"Don't you dare, Prussia," Austria says as Prussia leans down. "You are covered in flour, and I – " Austria's next words are cut off as Prussia kisses him, one of his hands leaving Austria's wrist to rest down on his thigh, creeping slowly up until it slips under Austria's shirt.

"Prussia," Austria repeats, trying to sound stern as Prussia draws back, a cocky smile on his face. He can feel Prussia's finger lightly stroking the taut muscles of his stomach, and it's getting harder to hold in the pants, especially when Prussia leans down and whispers something in his ear.

"Pruss – "

Prussia kisses him again, and Austria does respond this time, even though his position is more than uncomfortable. His hands leave the counter to tangle in Prussia's hair, mixing more flour into the already white locks, and Prussia's hand moves up to cover his heart lightly – Vienna.

"Prussia."

Austria's eyes snap open and he pushes Prussia off of him, straightening up and brushing the flour from his clothes as Prussia groans unhappily, turning to glare at the third nation who currently stands in the doorway, an exasperated look on his face.

"Jesus, West," Prussia says irritably, his eyes narrowed as he crosses his arms. Germany glares right back at him before turning to Austria, arching one brow at the decidedly embarrassed-looking aristocrat.

"I take it that the state of the kitchen is Prussia's doing?"

Prussia grins, slinging his arm around Austria's shoulder as Austria glares tiredly at him.

"_Fröhliche Weihnachten_, West," Prussia says then, gesturing to the flour-covered kitchen. "How do you like the decorating I did?"


	2. T2: Countdown

**Title: Heiligabend  
Author: sithmarauder  
Pairing(s): (in this chapter) Prussia/Austria, America/England, Germany/ N. Italy, Spain/S. Italy****  
Disclaimer: Hetalia and all affiliated characters do not, and will never, belong to me.**

Prompt: "Countdown."  
Sorry this is so short, everyone, but I've procrastinated my work until the last possible moment, and am now scrambling to finish it. My own fault.  
New Years kiss tradition explanation from Answers(dot)com. I was lazy. That is also why there aren't many people in this. Positive I got the German right this time, and I will slam my head against a window if I didn't. Speaking of which, the title will be addressed later, for those who are wondering.

Where I live, it was still January 1st when I posted this, and I apologize for any and all mistakes. I am so bad at proof-reading my own work.

-x-

_"Ten…"_

Prussia grins at the assembled crowd, a smug glint in his red eyes as they chug from their drinks, throwing their heads back in mock-elation, like a countdown is something to get excited over.

It isn't, really – not when they've lived through too many to count. Hundreds, thousands… Makes for a lot of birthday presents, Prussia thinks to himself as he sits on the couch, his arm thrown haphazardly around Austria's stiff shoulders.

_"Nine…"_

"Please remove yourself from my person, Prussia."

"_Eight…_"

"You know you don't mean it," Prussia says complacently, and when Austria remains silent, placing his cup and saucer on the table, Prussia knows he's won.

_"Seven…"_

Spain walks passed the couch, calling to Romano, who scowls and crosses his arms, but it's all talk, really – everyone knows he doesn't mind when Spain grabs onto him and hugs him happily, making Prussia snort and say something about Spain being too clingy.

"_Six…"_

He gets a sharp look from Austria at that, and Prussia doesn't know whether it's because he's the same way (but he's way more awesome than Spain, so it doesn't matter) or if it is because Austria was once married to him.

Prussia opts for the former.

"_Five…"_

"Heya, West!" Prussia crows as Germany joins them on the couch, looking slightly hesitant until Austria smiles slightly and nods his head. Prussia has to scowl then – Austria smiles more around Germany than him, and he doesn't like it at all.

_"Four…_"

Everyone's gathered around the television set now, but only a couple of the nations are actually counting down – America, for one, who's cheering and laughing as England stands beside him, a look of disapproval on his face as the American bumps into Canada, who apologizes.

Again.

_"Three_..."

"Hey, you know what's tradition?

_ "Two…"_

Austria glances over at him, a wary expression on his face. "What?"

_"One…"_

Prussia smirks again. He has him now. "This."

_"Happy New Year!" ("Shut up, you gi—mm…")_

Austria jerks initially when Prussia kisses him, but the albino ex-nation slides his hand around the back of Austria head to keep him in place, eyes glowing triumphantly as his other hand goes to grab Austria's left one, which he has raised as if to hit him. From across the room, Switzerland covers Liechtenstein's eyes, and scowls at them both.

_"Prosit Neujahr,_" Prussia purrs just as a camera goes off and Austria gives him a hefty shove, crossing his arms with an irate expression as Prussia topples to the ground. Germany, still sitting next to him, looks rather awkward and most certainly embarrassed, even though Prussia saw him kissing North Italy only seconds ago.

"Ouch! What the hell, Specs?"

Everyone glances over (well, except England, as he is still too busy being kissed very soundly by America) as Austria coolly reaches out for his tea, ignoring Hungary, who is grinning to herself as she checks something on her new digital camera (something Austria already regrets buying her).

Prussia isn't deterred, though.

"Hey, Specs, you know the legend," he says as he goes to sit back on the couch.

"Don't we all?" Germany responds impatiently.

"… Legend?" America asks, blinking in confusion. Beside him, Canada sighs.

England, not as distracted as before, turns to him in slight irritation.

"'In old English and German legends, the first person you come in contact with when the bells chime midnight, be it a familiar friend or just an acquaintance, sets the tone for your happiness and fortune in the coming year. A kiss with one you love ensures good tidings, but to have to kiss someone less favorable, or not kiss anyone at all, means misfortune in the upcoming year,'" he quoted.

"… Oh. Does this mean I'm going to be lucky for the rest of the year, then?"

"It is only an old – " but England finds his mouth very occupied then, much to the delight of Hungary, who snaps another picture as France laughs from his spot beside Canada, wine glass in hand.

"Hear that, little master?" Prussia says once everyone has returned to… whatever it is they are doing. "Now… want to try it again?"

"You fool," Austria huffs, but as soon as he thinks no one is looking, he leans up to kiss Prussia softly.

_Lucky indeed._


	3. T3: Sleep

**Titl****e: Heiligabend**  
**Author: sithmarauder  
Pairing(s): Prussia/Austria****  
Disclaimer: Hetalia and all affiliated characters do not, and will never, belong to me.**

"Sleep"

The map Prussia is talking about refers to a picture **Super Cheyenne** sent me.

I apologize for the immense shortness, but I'm in a drabble-ish mood.

-x-

_They're such children_, Austria thinks as he picks up a fallen bottle of beer, one of many that litter the interior of the living room and, previously, the kitchen. In front of him, kneeling on the ground, is both Prussia and Germany, their heads resting against the wood of the small table.

_"Prussia, what are you doing?"_

_ "Look, little mashter, isht the world 'cording to Wesht!"_

_ "… IKEA?"_

_ "Thatsh Shweden."_

_ "… Gas Vault?"_

_ "Russia."_

_ "… Vampire Land."_

_ "Errr…"_

_ "I think you've had enough to drink, Prussia."_

_ "Kesese. Heeey, little master, your eyes are purple…"_

_ Austria promptly takes the beer bottle away and watches with a sigh as Prussia slumps over the desk and _snores_._

Germany groans, but neither brother stirs, still slumbering away on the table. Even hours later, once everything is sufficiently tidy again (or at least tidy _enough_), they sleep on, completely dead and oblivious to the world. It is only later that evening, when Austria is seated at his piano, his fingers coaxing Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata_ from the keys, that Prussia wakes up, stumbling into the piano room and plopping onto the bench next to Austria. When the violet-eyed nation stops playing, Prussia shakes his head, commanding him to continue playing.

"'S nice for my head… Always makes it hurt less…" the ex-nation states, rubbing his temples with a grimace.

"Idiot. Next time don't drink so much," Austria says before returning his attention to his piano, extremely aware of the man seated next to him. And as he continues to play, the music echoing through the now-silent house, Prussia asleep once more against his shoulder, Austria finds he is acutely aware of the moon shining outside, providing a tribute to a strange comfort the Austrian nation has begun to cherish more than anything else he can think of.


	4. T4: Pigs & Valentinstag

**Title:**** Heiligabend  
Author: sithmarauder  
Pairing(s): Prussia/Austria****  
Disclaimer: Hetalia and all affiliated characters do not (and will never) belong to me.**

Prompt: "Valentinstag."

Yes, I will be writing a separate one-shot, and yes, I can't write fluff. The agony. ):  
Oh, and this particular theme collection will end on the first day of spring. We'll see how many I manage to get done before then. However, I have ridiculous amounts of fun just thinking about these three (Austria, Germany and Prussia, of course) so I'll likely be starting another, more general one. Maybe.

God, why do I suck so much?

Happy Valentines Day to those who celebrate it, ja?

-x-

"Prussia, what is this?" Austria refers, of course, to the little pig that sits on the kitchen table, staring up at him in a manner that doesn't distract from the rather _provocative_ pose it's in.

"'S a pig, little master," Prussia says, sweeping into the room with a triumphant expression, a frosted, heart-shaped ginger cookie in his mouth, and another little pig in his hand, this one holding a four-leaf clover instead of flowers (like the two in the bathroom) or the hearts (like the one Austria has discovered). He takes a bite of the cookie, grinning madly. "They're almost as cute as I am!"

Austria mumbles something under his breath, sighing as he reaches to pick up another pig, this one holding a four-leaf clover whilst climbing a ladder. "And how many of these did you buy, exactly?"

Prussia shifts, shrugging lightly, but he doesn't answer. It's then that Austria notices the rather large black bag that has been placed discreetly behind the ex-nation.

"You fool!" Austria explodes, turning around to glare at Prussia, his eyes flashing irately just as Germany enters the room to express his own displeasure at finding five more of the little pigs on the table in the living room.

"Prussia, what is the meaning of this? First the cookies and now…" Germany trails, his brow knitting into a frown as he shows his brother the offending item. The position of this pig is even more bawdy than the one Austria found, and a vein in the blonde German's head twitches as he waits for an answer. He looks like he would like nothing more than to hit his rather gullible brother over the head, but Austria crosses the room then, placing a hand on his shoulder before things can escalate too far.

Besides, Prussia is stronger than he looks, and Austria knows this through experience.

"'S that time of year, West!" Prussia says then, reaching up to pluck one of the pigs from the table. "Besides, the Weinachtsmarkt had a whole bunch of the cookies!"

"_Gott_, you didn't let China sell you something again, did you?" Germany grouses, his posture rigid as he resists the urge to start shouting.

"Pshaw, of course not! I'm too awesome to be suckered in by him!" Prussia says, crossing his arms lightly. This, of course, prompts Germany to mutter something under his breath, which Prussia inevitably hears, and Austria steps back with an audible sigh as they start arguing again. He's not going to stop this one; maybe Germany will be able to talk Prussia into removing these rather… lewd… things.

That night finds Austria standing in front of his window, arms crossed lightly over his chest as he stares out at the land Germany represents. The pigs had been forcefully cleaned up, Prussia protesting and arguing the whole while, and all the other _Valentinstag_ paraphernalia (namely even more pigs, along with some cookies) had been stashed away, and in the case of the cookies, consumed quickly by Prussia before Germany had been able to get them.

_Really, all this trouble for such an inconsequential 'holiday'… Such a new holiday, too._

And it was true. Germany himself hadn't started 'celebrating' it until after the Second World War, and Prussia…

Austria starts as he feels an arm wrap around his waist from behind, drawing him into the solid body accompanying it.

"What are you – !"

But Prussia merely smirks, holding up a single ginger cookie that he has somehow managed to keep away from Germany's attention. It is garish, almost too… frilly, what with the icing all the way around it and the colouring, but he doesn't think about that for long, for written on the cookie in the aforementioned white icing is a simple German phrase; a phrase Austria never seems to get used to, no matter how many times Prussia says it.

"Speechless, Specs?" Prussia purrs against the aristocrat's ear, his grip tightening slightly.

"Idiot," Austria mumbles, allowing himself to relax and lean against the Prussian man, head on his shoulder. Normally he would have turned and stormed away, but tonight he just feels tired. Tired enough to allow Prussia to stay there behind him, the two of them locked in an embrace, something the aristocratic nation rarely allows, even in private.

"Hey, little master?" Prussia asks as Austria slowly takes a bite of the cookie, the first part of the word _ich_ disappearing as he does so.

"Mm?"

"This one's for you," Prussia says earnestly, holding out a pig – something else he has been able to hide from Germany. The pig is climbing a ladder and holding a four-leaf clover, and Austria lets out a small huff upon seeing it.

"Luck, Prussia?"

He feels Prussia shrug and sighs deeply.

"… As long as you do not give me any of those vulgar cards that say 'Be My Valentine', then I suppose," Austria responds after a few moments.

Prussia grins against his neck, pressing his lips to the soft skin there.

"Does this mean you'll bake me one of those chocolate cakes, little master?" he asks cheekily.

"If you're somehow insinuating that I am effeminate, Prussia – "

But he doesn't get to say anything more, for Prussia has turned his head and kissed him _quite_ soundly, and any indignation Austria may have felt at the slight against his masculinity is erased. And throughout it all, the little ladder-climbing, four-leaf clover-holding Valentines pig watches them through beady black eyes, the half-eaten cookie lying next to it innocently on the table. And if the little pig happens to witness rather explicit activities happening later, well, it's not exactly going to tell anyone, now is it?


End file.
